


a performance, bursting with soul

by starlightwalking



Series: Fëanorian Redemption [8]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Finwëan Ladies Week 2020, Fluff, Pre-Canon, Weddings, background family drama, this is the House of Finwë it's unavoidable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: It is Kanafinwë's wedding day, and the world is bright and beautiful.
Relationships: Maglor | Makalaurë/Maglor's Wife
Series: Fëanorian Redemption [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484228
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26
Collections: Finwëan Ladies Week 2020





	a performance, bursting with soul

**Author's Note:**

> For Finwëan Ladies Week Day 5: Ladies Who Married In!
> 
> Teeeechnically this day is supposed to be for the canon wives? aka the ones we have names for? But I had this old snippet lying around just begging to be finished and more ideas for the OC day than I could handle, so I made the Executive Mod Decision that Yes, This Counts and also Prompts Are Optional, Do What You Want and that applies to me too, lmao.
> 
> Anyway - I wrote the beginning of this scene as sort of an exercise in creating Ezellë, who was one of my very first Silm OCs. It technically fits into my Fëanorian Redemption series, but takes place pre-anything and can be read entirely on its own. (Though if you want more Ezellë, I wrote about her and Maglor post-canon for [last year's FLW](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980976)!)  
> ETA 1/3/21: Made a slight change so that Irisse and Artanis' ages are more vague and added this to my "base canon" Silm series. Again, no context for any series is needed for this.
> 
> CW for a very brief mention of transphobia, condemned within the narrative.

At last the time had come. Kanafinwë smiled at his betrothed, then took her hand. Ezellë did not smile, but her eyes shone.

“I love you,” Kano whispered as they stood and walked to the front of the room. The feasting crowd—for even though this event was limited to their family and Ezellë’s closest friends, the clan of Finwë was vast and filled the hall—hushed. Eärwen and Anairë quieted their giggling girls, and Nelyo even managed to distract the rambunctious Ambarussa into silence.

“I am ready,” Ezellë said, squeezing his hand. Kano wanted to kiss her right then, but he refrained. The ceremony was about to begin.

Four figures rose: the parents of the bride and groom. Kano was relieved that his father had accepted his soon-to-be daughter-in-law as a member of his family so easily, and grateful to be given the same honor by Ezellë’s parents. Now, if his father and her parents could see eye to eye, that would be something grand.

Fëanáro stood proud and firm, his eyes sharp as ever, but even he could not find fault in the couple standing before him. Nerdanel stood by him, no less joyous at the sight of their second-eldest son on his wedding day. Kanafinwë was the first of their children to marry, and they had both worked tirelessly to provide the food, the entertainment, and the venue.

Ezellë’s parents, Poldamaitë and Cútasar, were the inverse of Kano’s. Poldamaitë worked in the forges like Fëanáro, but she was a blacksmith instead of a jewelsmith. She towered over her wife, slight and quiet Cútasar. They had organized the logistical side of the wedding, personally reaching out to each of Kano’s many family members. Kano was glad it had not been his father doing that, or else half of them would have been snubbed.

The invitation of Nolofinwë and Arafinwë had been one more strike against Ezellë’s parents in Fëanáro’s eyes. It was bad enough that Cútasar preferred the newfangled pronunciation of her name instead of Cútaþar—in his eyes, she was directly offending the memory of Míriel Þerindë. He insisted on calling her Cútaþar, and she in turn took every opportunity she could to call him Serindion.

Ezellë thought this was all nonsense, and while Kanafinwë privately agreed, he kept his peace in his father’s presence. Ezellë understood; she was good like that. She was perfect, really. Besides, once the wedding was over, Cútasar and Fëanáro would not have to speak to each other ever again if they did not wish it, and both of them loved their children far too much to oppose their union.

But all that drama was forgotten in this blessed moment. Kano let go of his beloved’s hand reluctantly, his heart pounding as they each approached the altar on opposite sides of the hall. Their parents awaited them, as did the officiant. It had become tradition that an Ainu conduct the ceremony; for most families, including Ezellë’s, that meant a friendly Maia. But Kanafinwë was of the House of Finwë and the House of Mahtan, both beloved by the Valar, and thus it was Aulë Worldsmith himself who awaited them, glowing with a steady fire as he smiled benevolently upon the couple.

The crowd was quiet as Kanafinwë and Ezellë took their places on either side of the altar. Two golden rings lay upon it, and Aulë stood behind it, blazing with warmth, but Kano could only focus on the radiance of his betrothed. Ezellë’s bright green eyes shone with a fire all their own, and the love and hunger there sent a shiver through Kanafinwë. He knew that soon, very soon, he would be hers and she his, and nothing in all of Arda could part them.

“It is a joyous day whenever two souls are bound together in marriage,” Aulë began, his voice a low rumble, “and today is all the more joyous, for the union of this couple is blessed by the Valar and Eru and all of Arda itself.”

Ezellë trembled in awe. Kano was intimidated by the Valar, even familiar Aulë, but this was the closest she had ever been to one. He wanted to reach out, grasp her hand, reassure her—but he held back, not wanting to ruin this otherwise-perfect moment.

Aulë spoke more of marriage, of his love for Yavanna, of the grace and wisdom of Eru in allowing for the union of fëar. It was not that Kanafinwë was not paying attention, he _was_ —but he simply could not tear his gaze away from Ezellë. She was always beautiful, but today she was even more resplendent than normal.

At last, Aulë’s speech came to an end, and he turned to Kano.

“Kanafinwë Makalaurë, Fëanárion and Nerdanelion,” he rumbled, “dost thou vow to cherish and adore, to support and uplift, to submit and respect, to love this nís in all circumstances, to become one with her until the end of Arda?”

Kano was a performer; he had long since conquered any stage fright he may once have had. But this— _this_ —this was different. This was the most important moment of his life thus far, and he found for once that he was at a loss for words.

But he could not keep Ezellë waiting, nor could he hold himself back. And so: “Yes,” he promised, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes, I do.”

Aulë shifted his focus to Ezellë. “Ezellë Tecnyarindë, Poldamaitiel and Cútasariel, dost thou vow to cherish and adore, to support and uplift, to submit and respect, to love this nér in all circumstances, to become one with him until the end of Arda?”

“I do,” she said, clearly, without any hesitation, and Kano loved her for it. She loved words as much as he did, perhaps more, but she “hid behind her quill,” as she had once put it, preferring to write her phrases rather than speak them. That she was so confident, so clear, now...Kanafinwë was so very proud of her, so honored that she had chosen him as her spouse.

“Then I declare thee wed,” Aulë pronounced, “and thy fullest bonding awaits only the blessing of Eru and the private union of thy souls.”

“In the name of Varda we bear witness,” said Nerdanel, and Cútasar echoed her. Poldamaitë hesitated, then added her own voice in a murmur. Aulë smiled to her, and she blushed. Poldamaitë was a nís in the way of Kano’s aunt Elemmírë, wife of Findis, and often the Valar misjudged her as a nér. But Aulë was not like narrow-focused Manwë, and he loved all his people, including those who presented themselves differently than what one might expect. With Aulë’s permission and approval Poldamaitë stood tall, and did not join Fëanáro when he spake the father’s line: “In the name of Manwë we bear witness.”

“Exchange thy silver ring for gold,” Aulë said, “and in symbol of thy marriage, I urge thee, Kanafinwë: kiss the bride!”

Ezellë and Kano grasped each other’s hands. Tears budded in Kanafinwë’s eyes as he slipped his wife’s betrothal ring from her finger and replaced it with the golden wedding ring. In the same moment, she did so for him, and when it was done she did not let go of his hand.

For just one moment Kanafinwë hesitated—and then he realized, joyously, that there was no need to wait any longer. Never again would he have to hold himself back from his dearest love, for she was now his _wife_ , and he her husband, and though their formal bond would be consummated that night when they were alone, there was nothing stopping him from giving the watching crowd the show they wanted.

It was like his music, he thought vaguely as he scooped his wife up in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. A performance, bursting with soul, each note sung with love. Only this song was better than any he could sing with his own voice, for the music was of his fëa and Ezellë’s, and it was with her that he now harmonized, in the most perfect, beautiful tune he had ever heard.

“I love you,” Ezellë whispered when they broke apart, their watching families laughing and cheering out their joy. “Kano, I love you. Kano, my _husband_.”

“Zell,” he choked out, kissing her again. “Zell, I love you; Zell, my _wife_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/), and check out the [Finwëan Ladies Week blog](http://finweanladiesweek.tumblr.com/) too!


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